


S.I.G.H.

by Codee21



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: And someone has to pay for it, Attempt at Humor, Discord: IronStrange Haven, Funny superhero insurance claims, Gen, Humor, Jake from State Farm - Freeform, No Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-Avengers (2012), The Avengers constantly destroy things, khakis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 16:59:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17943611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Codee21/pseuds/Codee21
Summary: Jake liked working for State Farm. Or at least he did... until he was promoted to the position of S.I.G.H.: Superhero Incident General Head. Now, Jake is stuck cleaning up the Avengers’ messes.“There’s no need to shout, sir.” Sigh. “I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do. Damage caused by the being known as Thor cannot be held against him in civil court.” Sigh. “Because, sir, under current federal policy any actions committed by him or his brother Loki are considered an Act Of God.”





	S.I.G.H.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this as a short, fun palate-cleanser between projects. Based on a picture on the Ao3 Writers Prompts Facebook page.
> 
> Shoutout to all my friends on the IronStrange Haven Discord for their constant support :)

Most insurance agents at State Farm were assigned to one area of expertise. Though all employees were taught the company’s overarching policies during their initial training, from there they were sent off in different directions. Some went to the Health Insurance Department. Some went to Auto. Some went to Home. Et cetera, et cetera.

 

Jake was special. Jake didn’t want to be special, but here he was anyway. Everyone else, the ones who worked in **real** Departments, had nice jobs. Boring jobs. Completely non-special jobs.

Jake wanted one.

But no.

After ten tedious, uncomplicated, glorious years in the Home Insurance Department, Jake was given a promotion. It wasn’t a promotion he’d asked for, it wasn’t one he’d wanted, but it had been placed on his desk one Monday morning wrapped in a pretty ultimatum bow all the same: take the new position, or leave State Farm altogether.

Jake couldn’t leave State Farm. He didn’t know how to do any job beyond this one, and he’d heard that the job market was really taking a nosedive these days. He had his wife, 2.5 kids, and white picket fence to provide for.

So, Jake had accepted the made-up position that he’d been presented with: Superhero Incidents General Head. S.I.G.H., for short. He had quickly learned that SIGHing was a very important part of his new job. It made up at least a third of all his phone conversations, of which he received hundreds daily. 

“No ma'am, I’m sorry but that damage is not covered under your current policy.” Sigh. “Because, ma’am, Mr. Sam Wilson, aka Falcon, has recently joined the Avengers. As such, any damages he caused while acting in his professional role no longer fall under Section 3.52 B of the Vigilante Clause.” Sigh. “I’m sorry, but all claims involving SHIELD-employed heroes must be submitted directly to their liaison.” Sigh. “I’d be more than happy to provide you with their phone, fax, and email, but I’m sorry to say that my hands are otherwise tied.”

 

Jake had gotten rather good at sighing over the two years he’d held the title. He had to admit that the acronym was appropriate. But sometimes he did wonder what the purpose of including the “H” really was. While technically the “H” stood for “Head”, Jake was not the head of anything. There were no employees working under him. No, everyone else at State Farm had a nice, normal job filled with useless board meetings where they served finger sandwiches, interdepartmental kickball games, and office mates whom one said hello and goodbye to without anything in between.

Instead, Jake was all alone in his tiny cubicle, answering the phone that never stopped ringing.

“Hello? Yes sir, I’d be more than happy to help you. Please tell me more about the incident.” Sigh. “I’m sorry sir, I’ll stop you right there. Unfortunately, Spider-Man is still a minor.” Sigh. “Yes, I understand that the damage done to your car on the ferry was **major** , but Spider-Man himself is still under the age of 18. I’ve been instructed to re-route all inquiries on claims concerning him to a hotline at Stark Industries. Shall I connect you to them now?” Sigh.

 

The calls often blended together in his mind. He had so many similar conversations to faceless voices, day in and day out.

“I’m not sure, sir. What would it be called if Iron Man were to do a cartwheel?” Fake laugh. “Yes sir, that is a very funny joke.” Pause. “Yes, I do greatly appreciate its nuance.” Pause. “No, I promise that I have never heard that one before.”

He had heard that one before.

 

Jake would have liked his job if it was just mindless repetition. He would have enjoyed the drudgery. But no two cases were ever exactly alike. They were like snowflakes.

And like snowflakes, every customer he spoke to seemed to be seconds away from melting down: 

“There’s no need to shout, sir.” Sigh. “I’m sorry, but there is nothing I can do. Damage caused by the being known as Thor cannot be held against him in civil court.” Sigh. “Because, sir, under current federal policy any actions committed by him or his brother Loki are considered to be an Act Of God.”

“... I report directly to the Assistant Director of the company, ma’am.” Sigh. “No, I do not have a manager.” Sigh. “Yes, you are currently speaking with the Superhero Incidents General Head.” Sigh. “I know what that abbreviates to, ma’am. I promise that I did not personally create the title.” Pause. “Uhhhh... khakis?” 

“... what approximate size was Ant Man when he hit your car?” Sigh. “Well, if he was shorter than three feet tall, your case will fall under the jurisdiction of Small Claims.” Sigh. “No ma’am, I promise I am not ‘pulling one over on you’. That really is company policy.” Sigh. “Unfortunately I do not make these kinds of decisions, but I will register your complaint with my supervisor.”

“...no, any adverse reactions to medical treatments provided by the ‘Avengers Harry Potter guy’ cannot be considered cases of medical malpractice.” Sigh. “He is no longer a practicing physician. Any aid he provided you in the field is considered experimental in nature, as it is not approved by the FDA.” Sigh. “Under Clause 64 - 0904 of our Health Insurance Part C coverage -“. Sigh. “He is a hero, sir, not a doctor. Given the circumstances, which you have described to me in extremely minute detail, he cannot be sued for malpractice.” Sigh. “Yes, I am very sorry that your navel has turned purple. If you’d like I can forward you to the hotline at Stark Industries.” Sigh. “All claims concerning this entity are to be rerouted there. His true identity is not currently available to the public, and he is not officially a member of the Avengers Initiative.” Sigh. “No, sir, I promise that I am not in any way facilitating a Hogwarts conspiracy. He really is just a superhero.”

 

At the end of each day, Jake had a routine. He relished the moment when the clock struck five. The timer sitting in a very prominent position on his desk would buzz. He would sigh again, but this time it would be in relief. He would hit the red button that turned off the phone with a flourish, though no one else was there in his tiny cubicle to appreciate the dramatic flair. He would pack his briefcase, put on his wool hat and coat no matter the weather, and exit the building with a nod to the receptionist whose name he did not know.

He would park his car in the driveway and open the gate to their white picket fence. He would open the door to his clean house, hot dinner, and loving family. He would pet his dog, hug his 2.5 kids, kiss his wife, and pour himself a very large glass of red wine.

Most importantly, Jake did not allow his family to turn on the evening news. His children were forbidden to own Iron Man shirts or Captain America sneakers like their friends. They did not listen to the radio or receive newspapers in their home - during his second week on the job, Jake had broken down crying when he’d seen one particular morning headline at the breakfast table: “HULK SMASH! LOWER MANHATTAN REDUCED TO RUBBLE FOLLOWING AVENGERS ANTICS!”

 

But Jake was okay. Really. He was fine, and he made it a point to tell everyone he knew that he was fine.

Everything would be fine, as long as superheroes could refrain from doing something stupid long enough for him to catch up on his paperwork. True, they had lives to save, politicians to rescue, and babies to kiss. But deep down, Jake knew he was the real hero here. His comprehensive knowledge of State Farm policies was sometimes the only thing that stood between American citizens and bankruptcy, after all. Without him, they could lose their cars. Their families. Their white picket fences.

And he hadn’t needed to get bitten by a spider, exposed to gamma radiation, or kidnapped in Afghanistan to do it, either.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Gen in this fandom, so let me know if you like it!
> 
> Comments and kudos make my day <3


End file.
